Panfilo Lacson was not really held in great esteem when he burst into public consciousness as top policeman of the Presidential Anti-Crime Commission (PACC), a crime fighting bureaucracy under Vice-President “Erap” Estrada during the administration of President Fidel Ramos. Lacson was perceived to be a no-nonsense policeman who, like his sponsor, might consider the nuances of the application of the law as mere inconvenience.

In 1995, the PACC was linked to the killing of 11 members of the Kuratong Baleleng organized crime syndicate who were into kidnapping for ransom, robbery and illegal drugs, among others. Lacson and his men were alleged to have engaged them in a shootout, but witnesses and evidence showed that the whole scenario was staged. It was labeled by the press as a cold-blooded massacre. Nonetheless, the notoriety of the gang and its vicious methods pitted the group against public opinion. Human rights advocates were in uproar, while many law-abiding ordinary citizens distressed with rising crime were tolerant with the PACC’s methods. The criminal case against Lacson and his men were eventually dismissed.

Upon his assumption of office as President, Erap organized the Presidential Anti-Organized Crime Task Force (PAOCTF), headed by Lacson, who was then Police director general. During the short reign of Erap, corruption was endemic and an influential publicist and political operator, Salvador “Bobby” Dacer, was in the forefront, allegedly helping destabilize his regime.

In November 2000, Dacer and his driver were abducted, and their corpses burned. Senior officers of PAOCTF and Lacson were implicated in this ghastly crime. The case dragged on for years, but before Lacson could be charged in court, he fled the country and became a fugitive for months. He returned when the case against him was dismissed, finishing his first full term as senator of the land.

Lacson’s comportment was not surprising because of his image then as an acolyte given hands-on tutorials by the infamous Col. Rolando Abadilla, who was perceived to be the executioner and master torturer of the Marcos regime when he headed the notorious METROCOM Intelligence and Security Group (MISG).

During the Erap years (as VP and later, President) Lacson cultivated his image as a scourge of criminals, a curse to the incompetent and crooked cops under him, and he nurtured a reputation as an incorruptible law enforcer. He was known to refuse emoluments from grateful families of KFR victims, parlaying these deeds to a seat in the Philippine Senate.

It was as a senator when he perfected his anti-corruption persona as he refused to avail of his Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF), the “pork barrel” funds, which were sources of corruption for congressmen and senators. He unsuccessfully called for its abolition but in his first six-year senatorial term he had his PDAF reverted to the National Treasury, only the second senator to have done so.

Many began to reassess this maverick who has been shedding the façade of a violator of human rights and who assumed a different role as a fighter of corruption in the highest echelon of government – the two houses of Congress. From one who went on the lam for 15 months to skip an arrest warrant and murder charges, he morphed into one who crusaded against wholesale corruption. He placed third on his second term election bid for the Senate in 2016.

It will be recalled that in 2013, the Supreme Court declared PDAF unconstitutional after the expose of a massive scam by Janet Lim Napoles and the involvement of members of the two houses of Congress. Three senators were incarcerated for plunder as a result.

Today, it’s all overturned. The three senators, Juan Ponce Enrile, Jinggoy Estrada and Bong Revilla have been exonerated and are now running for their old seats at the Senate. And worse, their main source of corruption, the “pork barrel system,” is back in the 2019 budget. And the pork barrel insertions are again being replayed at the start of every budget hearing, although these are being denied by the House Leadership.

“This political striptease on pork – by those exposing its hidden fat and by those defending its value – is as old as the tired debate on political dynasties.… One lawmaker would leak all the hidden insertions, others would condemn the practice, and the beneficiaries would sing praises to it: pork builds bridges; pork paves farm-to-market roads; pork constructs recreational facilities for the poor; and pork brings hospitals nearer to them. It is the grease that makes basic services happen.

(“Rappler” Glenda Gloria, Dec. 11, 2018)

And all of them have their pounds of flesh as percentages cut from the fat they can pocket out of these services, I might add.

Enter Senator Lacson, the only senator now in the realm that has the decency to champion, this time, the people’s and presumably, the Deegong’s fight against corruption.

Among the bill of particulars are the allocation of P60 million for each member of Congress, with some favorites such as Congressmen Rolly Andaya and Carlo Nograles allocated billions more. The House Speaker, former President GMA and a freed plunderer herself, is back in her old ways with fund insertions amounting to billions – although again denied by her.

Lacson fully knows well the evil representing these anomalous pork insertions and has vowed to kill them in the Senate budget deliberations.

He will fail! A single senator against a community of “honorable gentlemen and ladies” salivating for their share is just too much for a maverick unless the people led by the “anti-corruption President” moves with alacrity. But will he?

Thus, the ongoing reinvention of Lacson as the senator who will storm the ramparts of his own house, the Senate, plays perfectly into the political theater. While DU30 has been perceived as the President with the political will to fight corruption in the bureaucracy, he has been perceived also to be overwhelmed and his initiatives sputtering. And the bigger fight on corruption has shifted to both houses of the legislative body where the majority is the Deegong’s allies. But by necessity one of their own must perform surgery against the perceived anomalous budget. This role is perfect for Lacson, and he is gaining traction.

Duterte’s supporters, particularly the avid DDS who have been contemplating the post-DU30 scenario on who will continue his “pagbabago agenda,” have been building up the feisty daughter Sara to assume his mantle after he leaves the scene.

But in the scheme of things — with the constant complaints of the President that he is tired, his failure to deliver on his campaign promises (federalism, the peace process), and overall governance ennui — he has created a dangerous perception of a vacuum in governance. That could be dangerously filled by the denizens of the political past, the GMA cohorts now populating not only the halls of Congress but even the key real estate in the Cabinet and major bureaucracies.

And in all these convoluted scenarios, a PRRD clone in the ascendant awaits on the sidelines: Panfilo Lacson.

NOV. 30, 2018 saw the passing of George H.W. Bush, the 41st President of the United States. The last of the US presidents to see combat in World War 2, Bush was a navy pilot who was shot down in the Pacific but was rescued and survived. He was an authentic American Hero of a generation that produced thousands of heroes.

President Bush was the US President I am most acquainted with as his trajectory from being Ronald Reagan’s vice president to president coincided with my schooling at Harvard from 1988 to 1989. The Kennedy School of Government (KSG) was one of the centers of academic discourse on political economy and many of our professors were engaged as part-time consultants to both Democratic and Republican candidates. Thus, campus partisan debates were heated but lively and we, foreign students, were privileged to be assigned “case analyses” involving election campaign strategies. I had a front row seat in the 1988 presidential campaign and a glimpse of the US democratic system through the lens of both theoretical and pragmatic politics.

Both houses of the US Congress then were controlled by the Democratic Party. It is to his genius that Republican President Bush, shaped bipartisan support for his foreign policy-driven administration. His “regime change” military operations in Panama booted out the dictator Noriega installing a US-friendly democratic government. It was considered then as heavy-handed. But his crowning glory was perhaps “Operation Desert Storm.” He hammered a coalition force of three dozen countries of the United Nations and defeated the Iraqi army of Saddam Hussein that invaded and annexed Kuwait.

After just one four-year term of George H.W. from 1989 to 1993, four presidents followed; Bill Clinton, 1993 to 2001; George W. Bush, 2001 to 2009; Barack Obama, 2009-2017; and Donald Trump, 2017.

I can’t help contrasting the administrations of American presidents with those of our own during each parallel incumbency. Clinton was impeached by the US Congress on his sexual dalliances with a White House intern but acquitted by the Senate and went on to spark a US economic growth that produced budget surpluses. Despite his impeachment, he left office with the highest approval rating of any post-war president and is now ranked among the great American presidents.

Erap, a populist president started a career in movies and his exploits onscreen propelled him to various elective offices. His base “the masa” never could quite differentiate between his fictitious and real roles. As a superb thespian, he projected the image of a man of the masses concealing his incompetence and camouflaging his corrupt administration. He was impeached but his Senate trial was aborted as a “people power” uprising ensued, causing him to abandon the presidency. He was later convicted for plunder but got a presidential pardon from his successor, president Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. He is now the mayor of the city of Manila.

The daughter of a Philippine president, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, an economist, was touted as the most prepared for the highest office. But her administration was marred by electoral fraud and corruption, which eclipsed her achievements. Her watch was weighed down by accusations of her husband’s alleged meddling; their conjugal partnership was labeled as second only to the Marcoses. She spent years after her term incarcerated not in a prison cell but in a hospital bed. She was acquitted of plunder charges and has staged a comeback as a congressman and is now the Speaker of the House.

Her US counterpart was George “Dubya” Bush. The September 11 Twin Towers terrorist attack in New York City and his response defined his presidency. His “war on terror” and the pursuit of Osama Bin Laden, the al-Qaida terror architect, drove him to wage war in Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003. The American forces were bogged down in a war in the Persian Gulf whose reverberations are felt to this day. It is now the longest American war. His administration ended with the US housing market crash precipitating the global financial crisis of 2008 to 2009 that infected the world economy and nearly caused a total US economic collapse, were it not for the financial stimulus applied by his successor president Obama, which was echoed by major massive stimuli from Europe and China.

Barack Obama, 44th US President and the first Afro-American to hold that office, engineered the US economic recovery, tapered down US troops presence in the Persian Gulf, and carried out the killing of Osama bin Laden. The last had unintended consequences, giving birth to the IS, a much deadlier international terrorist group.

The Philippine counterpart was another son of a president, Benigno Aquino 3rd who, in his six-year incumbency, caused the dismantling of his mother’s already flawed people power legacy. He was just an entitled scion of a political clan totally unprepared for the rigors and discipline of the presidency. His administration was marked by retribution, bribing a subservient Congress to evict a chief justice of the Supreme Court. He likewise allowed subalterns to conjure faulty and corrupt financial instruments for rent-seeking endeavors. He may yet go to prison.

Generally, US presidents were not smeared with personal corruption. Clinton, Bush and Obama left office with heads held high. Not with their Philippine counterparts — Erap, Gloria and PNoy.

Which brings us to the current presidents, Trump and Duterte. The jury is still out on these two. The Donald has a flawed personality that the US press, whom he accuses of being the “enemy of the people and purveyors of fake news,” has fact-checked a compendium of lies from his social media tweets and public pronouncements. His former defense secretary described him as one “who does not read and suggests policy actions that could be illegal,” inferring that this American president is not qualified to lead the great American people.

The Deegong has been unfairly compared to the Donald. His colorful language sometimes bordering on obscenity tends to shock people either to capture attention (claims he’s joking) or simply to stress a point. But to his admirers and sycophants, this is part of his genius as a political strategist.

Dr. Pedrito “Toti” Morales, a Fil-American and an astute observer of Philippine politics, has this to say on their qualifications: “Trump never had any position in government service, being more of a businessman real estate developer billionaire with a record of 10 bankruptcies. Duterte is a trained lawyer, fiscal, prosecutor, and had 23 years as mayor and one term as a congressman…He focuses more on the uplift of the poor majority in terms of delivery of government services…”

Dinky Munda, an artist and a political blogger, has this to say: “Trump will be impeached by a Democrat Congress. Digong may survive politically, but may not last (end) his term (stroke, cardiac arrest).”

That is one helluva prediction considering the rumors about the President’s health. But Munda has this rejoinder: “Digong is possible to be our best president, but he is squandering his political capital needlessly! Of the 16 million voters who voted for him, 50 were women, while 90 percent Christian. Why is he pissing on them off?”

In a move that rivaled the stealth with which the remains of the dictator Ferdinand Marcos were buried in the heroes’ cemetery, the House of Representatives swiftly passed last week the Resolution of Both Houses (RBH) of Congress No. 15, otherwise known as the draft federal constitution.

Despite vigorous objections from some quarters, and after only three session days of plenary debates, the House approved on third and final reading its controversial draft that would replace the 1987 Constitution and lead to a shift to federalism.

Naturally, there are serious questions about its intent. As former solicitor general Florin Hilbay noted, the move to amend the 1987 Constitution is aimed at paving the way, not for federalism, but for the lifting of term limits on lawmakers and the abolition of the provisions against political dynasties.

Long story short, it’s another crude attempt by politicians to hold on to power. And it doesn’t help that its principal author is Speaker Gloria Macapagal Arroyo who can’t seem to have enough of public office, starting from being vice president in 1998, assuming the presidency from the disgraced Joseph Estrada, running for president despite an earlier avowal to the contrary, and, after that term, sliding down to a seat in the House.

So for whom is this proposed charter? Whose interest were the House members serving when they passed with unseemly haste a draft that toys with the Philippines’ democratic processes as well as its patrimony and resources?

Consider how the draft charter allows foreign ownership of public utilities, educational institutions and the media, and imagine how the case of the third telco — a consortium that includes China — could very well apply to transport facilities and electric and water utilities, as well as schools and radio-TV networks.

With President Duterte so cozy with China that hundreds of thousands of undocumented Chinese have found their way to offshore gambling operations here, the possibility of the Philippines being taken over by moneyed foreign governments is hardly far-fetched.

Think of what has been lost in the Spratlys, indeed in the West Philippine Sea. The draft charter would amount to legitimizing bullying tactics.

There is also the matter of term extensions for current officials until 2022, which means that next year’s elections could possibly be scuttled, depriving the people of the chance to elect officials whom they believe would do better than the incumbents.

At the same time, postponing the 2019 elections would allow wily politicians to craft more laws to their advantage, with little opposition from the administration-dominated Congress.

As shown in the hasty approval of the draft federal charter, it takes only three legislative sessions to tear up the painstaking process of building a democracy, pointed out Quezon City Rep. Kit Belmonte, who voted against RBH 15.

Even Rep. Lito Atienza, a staunch Arroyo ally, decried the secretive manner with which the draft was passed: “The people’s full involvement and knowledge of what they’re doing and what they want for the future should have been considered in this particular issue.”

The draft also has “one fatal omission,” according to former chief justice Reynato Puno, who chaired the Consultative Committee on Charter Change. It failed to mention the Bangsamoro and Cordillera regions. “Unless we are able to satisfy these identity-based demands, we’ll always be hounded by this peace and order problem. The worst-case scenario is [these two regions] may even separate from us,” he warned.

The hasty passage of the proposed federal constitution has raised eyebrows as well because of the surveys showing that federalism and charter change are bottom-dwellers among the current concerns of most Filipinos. (Inflation and high prices, the lack of jobs and peace and order are their more pressing concerns, survey respondents said.)

With even proponents of federalism describing the draft charter as “garbage,” it is up to the Senate to junk it before it can do harm.

Citizens should speak out against it — loudly and continuously on all platforms, including social media. Voters can do their part by choosing wisely in the 2019 polls, electing those who can hold their own despite pressures and enticements from mercenary politicos.

It bears reminding that a Duterte majority could very well mean the approval of the draft charter, and the unraveling of the democratic process as we know it.

]]>info@cdpi.asia (LITO MONICO C. LORENZANA)LML PolettiquesTue, 18 Dec 2018 11:09:49 +0900Draft charter for whom?http://cdpi.asia/index.php/2016-02-05-03-09-27/news/item/677-https-opinion-inquirer-net-118247-draft-charter-for-whom
http://cdpi.asia/index.php/2016-02-05-03-09-27/news/item/677-https-opinion-inquirer-net-118247-draft-charter-for-whomIn a move that rivaled the stealth with which the remains of the dictator Ferdinand Marcos were buried in the heroes’ cemetery, the House of Representatives swiftly passed last week the Resolution of Both Houses (RBH) of Congress No. 15, otherwise known as the draft federal constitution.

Despite vigorous objections from some quarters, and after only three session days of plenary debates, the House approved on third and final reading its controversial draft that would replace the 1987 Constitution and lead to a shift to federalism.

Naturally, there are serious questions about its intent. As former solicitor general Florin Hilbay noted, the move to amend the 1987 Constitution is aimed at paving the way, not for federalism, but for the lifting of term limits on lawmakers and the abolition of the provisions against political dynasties.

Long story short, it’s another crude attempt by politicians to hold on to power. And it doesn’t help that its principal author is Speaker Gloria Macapagal Arroyo who can’t seem to have enough of public office, starting from being vice president in 1998, assuming the presidency from the disgraced Joseph Estrada, running for president despite an earlier avowal to the contrary, and, after that term, sliding down to a seat in the House.

So for whom is this proposed charter? Whose interest were the House members serving when they passed with unseemly haste a draft that toys with the Philippines’ democratic processes as well as its patrimony and resources?

Consider how the draft charter allows foreign ownership of public utilities, educational institutions and the media, and imagine how the case of the third telco — a consortium that includes China — could very well apply to transport facilities and electric and water utilities, as well as schools and radio-TV networks.

With President Duterte so cozy with China that hundreds of thousands of undocumented Chinese have found their way to offshore gambling operations here, the possibility of the Philippines being taken over by moneyed foreign governments is hardly far-fetched.

Think of what has been lost in the Spratlys, indeed in the West Philippine Sea. The draft charter would amount to legitimizing bullying tactics.

There is also the matter of term extensions for current officials until 2022, which means that next year’s elections could possibly be scuttled, depriving the people of the chance to elect officials whom they believe would do better than the incumbents.

At the same time, postponing the 2019 elections would allow wily politicians to craft more laws to their advantage, with little opposition from the administration-dominated Congress.

As shown in the hasty approval of the draft federal charter, it takes only three legislative sessions to tear up the painstaking process of building a democracy, pointed out Quezon City Rep. Kit Belmonte, who voted against RBH 15.

Even Rep. Lito Atienza, a staunch Arroyo ally, decried the secretive manner with which the draft was passed: “The people’s full involvement and knowledge of what they’re doing and what they want for the future should have been considered in this particular issue.”

The draft also has “one fatal omission,” according to former chief justice Reynato Puno, who chaired the Consultative Committee on Charter Change. It failed to mention the Bangsamoro and Cordillera regions. “Unless we are able to satisfy these identity-based demands, we’ll always be hounded by this peace and order problem. The worst-case scenario is [these two regions] may even separate from us,” he warned.

The hasty passage of the proposed federal constitution has raised eyebrows as well because of the surveys showing that federalism and charter change are bottom-dwellers among the current concerns of most Filipinos. (Inflation and high prices, the lack of jobs and peace and order are their more pressing concerns, survey respondents said.)

With even proponents of federalism describing the draft charter as “garbage,” it is up to the Senate to junk it before it can do harm.

Citizens should speak out against it — loudly and continuously on all platforms, including social media. Voters can do their part by choosing wisely in the 2019 polls, electing those who can hold their own despite pressures and enticements from mercenary politicos.

It bears reminding that a Duterte majority could very well mean the approval of the draft charter, and the unraveling of the democratic process as we know it.]]>info@cdpi.asia (Inquirer News)NewsTue, 18 Dec 2018 10:39:11 +0900DELICADEZA (Dureza's Bold Act)http://cdpi.asia/index.php/2016-02-05-03-09-27/op-ed-articles/lml-polettiques/item/675-https-www-manilatimes-net-delicadeza-481286
http://cdpi.asia/index.php/2016-02-05-03-09-27/op-ed-articles/lml-polettiques/item/675-https-www-manilatimes-net-delicadeza-481286

IN our culture, one feature that puts citizens on equal footing whether they are of the upper class or part of the “mayukmok” is an appreciation of “pagmumukha”or ‘face.’ There is no exact English translation but roughly, this is mostly an Asian trait that puts top premium on comportment, particularly on one’s sense of worth.

In most Filipino families, “walanghiya” in Tagalog, or “way uwaw” in Bisaya, is an all-encompassing personal rebuke that speaks volumes — from criticizing a display of bad manners, a demonstration of a flawed character to an indictment of shoddy parental upbringing. The latter is usually accompanied by “walang pinag-aralan” or “wala tudlu-i sa mga ginikanan,” condemning in the process one’s progeny. We have permutations on this theme rooted in Spanish: palabra de honor and amor propio. All play around with the notion of “shame” — which could be the appropriate synonym in the English language.

Within government and public service and in the corporate domain, with positions of responsibility, a more sophisticated concept is often used; that of delicadeza. Handed down by the Spanish colonialists and married to our Asian concept of “mukha” or “face,” this is a strong Filipino value that permeates private behavior in the light of one’s public actuations and responsibilities. It is an ingrained mechanism that uses self-worth as a guide to one’s acts.

In our society, delicadeza is a highly regarded attribute, and one who applies this appropriately is deemed refined and praised for good upbringing. One does honor not only to oneself but to one’s family as well. And the opposite “walang delicadeza” connotes all the negatives attached to a person that deserves society’s contempt. One is therefore scorned by neighbors and community — and maybe even by family. But Filipino culture is much more forgiving.

Not in other cultures, like the Japanese, whose sense of self-worth is equivalent to honor. And honor above all holds the top tier in their set of values — even above life itself. Thus, in their history, any transgressions that impact negatively on one’s honor must restore it to oneself and one’s family by paying with one’s life. This is the ultimate act of restoration.

In this culture, seppuku is the preferred method. A ritual suicide in a centuries-old, tradition-laden ceremony of using a dagger to disembowel oneself. This was originally the samurai’s ultimate method to attenuate shame but only upon the express permission of his daimyo or feudal master.

In the modern context, the Japanese’s equivalent sense of delicadeza demands public humiliation and apology. Several years ago, the grandson of the president Akio Toyoda, the Toyota Corp. founder, offered a public apology on TV for some transgressions that impacted negatively the quality and reliability of their cars. For bad corporate performance, Japanese electronics company Panasonic President Kazuhiro Tsuga cried publicly and offered an apology.

Japanese Prime Minister Yukio Hatoyama apologized and resigned after just eight months in office for failure to honor critical election promises. In April of this year, Vice Finance Minister Junichi Fukuda resigned amid allegations of sexual harassment. And in a scandalous bribery case in September 2018, Finance Minister Hiroshi Mitsuzuka, a powerful bureaucrat, resigned when several executives under him were accused of taking bribes. Mitsuzuka, although not implicated, assumed responsibility.

Public apology is embedded in Japanese corporate and government bureaucratic culture, and resignation in extreme cases is warranted. And Japanese society expects and accepts such acts as public contrition. Seppuku is no longer allowed as atonement in modern Japanese society, but there are still reports of old-time traditionalists paying the ultimate to restore their honor.

Which brings us to the Philippine context. In the Philippines, those who are themselves involved in transgressions cling to their positions like leeches with nary an apology. And the bigger anomaly is that they pass on the onus to the appointing power. “I serve at the pleasure of the President…” is often the shameless default statement. No accountability is taken and what’s worse is that blame is imputed to others, mostly to the lower ranks. And depending on the mood of the Deegong and his tolerance for pain over firing longtime close associates, the miscreant will have to suffer the bigoted DU30 policy on “whiff of corruption,” just waiting to be fired. These shameless acts by the bureaucrats fall under “walang delicadeza,” with all the negatives attached to the phrase; no sense of self-worth and no honor.

Thus, the resignation of Secretary Jesus “Jess” Dureza as head of the Office of Presidential Adviser on the Peace Process (OPAPP) is a whiff of fresh air from the recent fetid atmosphere of overstaying bureaucrats in the Bureau of Customs, whose corrupt practices cry to high heavens. And this is a study in contrast to the questionable actuations of a high government official who entered into a security agency contract with his own department.

As gleaned from Dureza’s resignation letter, the President terminated two OPAPP high officials for some alleged anomalies. At no point was Secretary Jess involved in any of the anomalies that caused the termination of his two top men.

Last week, Secretary Jess posted in his Facebook page his letter of resignation to DU30 with a lead statement in bold letters. I quote:

“I TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY FOR CORRUPTION AT OPAPP.”

“I am sad because despite my efforts to be compliant with your strong advocacy against corruption, I failed…I truly am sad that OPAPP, as an institution which I head, had to suffer publicly due to the acts of a few.

“Nonetheless, I take full responsibility and apologize for all this.

“I am voluntarily tendering my resignation to pave the way for the needed reorganization that Your Excellency may wish to undertake at OPAPP. “

Secretary Jess need not perform seppuku, but he did a brave Filipino equivalent. He resigned to take responsibility. And this is delicadeza at its best. His acts and statement were reflections of how a better man and a better bureaucrat needs to behave. He will be judged wonderfully by our citizenry. It was therefore unnecessary for Jess to post an addendum:

“Although I have voluntarily relinquished my assigned task at OPAPP, I call on everyone to continue supporting our President. I will continue to do so in my private capacity. I believe in him and in his sincere intentions for our country. He cannot do this alone.”

I WILL depart temporarily from my regular fare of politics and analysis of issues behind the headlines. Today’s item touches on a topic concerned with the demographic subset to which I belong, the “baby boomers.” We came right after the “greatest generation” that fought a world war. The end of WW2, I surmise, stimulated the homecoming warriors to wage another war in matrimonial beds perhaps to collectively replenish the population lost in the war; or young couples freed from the stresses of almost a decade of world conflict surrendered to the long suppressed hormonal demands for sexual proclivities. This precipitated an unintended consequence — over-production of babies. Except that in poverty-stricken Philippines, we continued this pleasant task as an inexpensive leisure time diversion, exacerbated by the Catholic Church dictum to go and multiply. And that we certainly did, merrily driving population growth through the roof and supplying the insatiable world demand for OFWs. Thus, I came into this world as the eldest of 10 livebirths. And so were many from my Ateneo de Davao high school class of 1960, grade school 1956, and kindergarten 1950, whose parents were similarly oblivious to “birth control.”

But today, we are a dying breed. Magnificent breed indeed, “legends in our own minds,” nonetheless dying all the same. Class ’60 could be a microcosm of my generation. There were the original nine of us who matriculated in Grade 1 in June 1950 (5-7 years old): Alvin, Dinky, Gamay, Gus, Jimmy, Ting, Manding, Ferrer and me. We had our first death in Manding Valencia†, our valedictorian; first in class, first in death! In a plane crash. The irony of it all is that it could have been Sammy Lutz, who at the last moment exchanged flights with Manding (but this is part of the class ’60 compendium of narratives, myths and lore; the expanded version available when the ADD Class ’60 book is published — if ever).

It was similarly true for Boy Ferrer† our Grade 6 valedictorian who graciously gave us two weeks’ advance notice that he was passing on (due to cancer). This precedent is now prescribed by our designated class president-for-life, Dinky; allowing the living time to fit out new barongs.

In the 1980s, our professions scattered us to the four winds but our desire to revisit our roots prompted Pete Ancheta†, Alvin and Eken Angeles to initiate yearly reconnection during school alumni reunions. These became regular affairs when many dropped by Davao to visit old haunts, update one another, relive some memories and boast about our careers and amorous conquests. Joey Ramirez† holds the record when he succumbed to a fatal stroke amidst camaraderie and merry-making. May he rest in peace.

To date, 29 of us, a good third of the original batch of 80 have passed on. Statistically, at this rate, we should all be gone in another quarter of a century notwithstanding advances in medicine and drastic changes in lifestyle. There is a morbid silver lining to this. UN statistics on population longevity establishes the male life expectancy at birth in the Philippines at 64.72 years; which give us an average bonus of a decade over our expiry date.

This macabre Russian roulette of who goes ahead happily is not in an alphabetical order; else Ting Valdez, Aks Verde and Rey Vicente have the advantage. Our being in the ‘departure area’ as it were, and the thought of ‘who goes next’ is I think the single biggest impetus that binds class ’60 together at this late date and heightens the need for a buffer from the inevitable. No one wants to board ahead, not Romy Espaldon or Mac Cabonce, our two elders, or even Alex Nidea, who is bedridden.

A dark depressing cloud descended upon us lately, triggered by the recent demise of Art Gumban. Art was literally bigger than many of us, but he possessed a demeanor perhaps influenced by devoted wife Mila. A taciturn man with an arresting smile permanently plastered on his face emitting mixed unreadable signals on whether he is angry, bored or happy. Yoly Salazar, his confidante, swears that this gentle giant of a man was sweet inside and out. He did not last a year with his pancreatic cancer.

Ben de Guzman and Boy Gomez proffered a theory which could have an element of truth; that only the good die young; “…ang masasamang damo, ay matagal mamatay,” giving a sigh of a relief to Philip Kimpo, Ochie Teoxon and Ben Garrido. On the other hand, this certainly presents a portent and a disadvantage to the likes of Pribhu Balchand, Gus Dacudao and Ruben Hilario who are the most religious in the group. Along with our designated pastor, Romy Butiu, they certainly have reserve seats if called upon early into the bosom of His Kingdom.

We will someday die but will fight tooth and nail to postpone it. Thus, we all are feverishly clinging to the familiar and a camaraderie simply to recapture memories amidst an early stage of dementia and Alzheimer — which, I’m afraid, is a much more lethal form of death. Thus, we have recruited our wives to join us in these sorties to cover up for us, reminding us to refrain from repeating old jokes. But just the same, we laugh heartily as we don’t remember the new ones from the old.

At this point in our lives, we indulge ourselves by organizing simple gatherings and out-of-town sorties. At the core is our Wednesday merienda that sometimes stretches out toward evening with Philip leading the call for beer. Danny Tiongko recently celebrated a birthday dinner with Manila-based classmates which could be a precedent for a weekly gathering in the capital region. And our hacendero, Jimmy San Agustin, has invited us all for a taste of Roxas; and Boy Tan for an engagement with the indigenous tribes of Bukidnon — whose appearance and forest smell he has emulated and absorbed.

We don’t need excuses to do lunch to celebrate a birthday, or when our rich classmate Mar OngAnte with gorgeous wife Aleli sponsor dinner — which is not that expensive as septuagenarians are in a habit of calculating calories and comparing cholesterol and blood-glucose counts while our doctor Art Perez dispenses free advice and Vic Mabunay extols the health benefits of natural coconut oil. Our appetites are decidedly reduced by talk of maladies. And the customary greetings of “how are you” are interpreted literally as a challenge for bragging rights on the latest ailments, from diabetes, to high blood pressure to erectile dysfunction. At least our conversation has not yet deteriorated into what brand of adult diaper gives the best comfort and does not leak!

And so, this narrative of the weekly gathering of old men will continue with such fervid attentiveness with the knowledge that this will not last long. The last passengers will be called soon, as one needs to surrender one’s boarding pass — “…another one bites the dust.” In the meantime, see you Wednesday afternoon.

On June 29 last year, in remarks made at the anniversary of a charity, President Duterte gave a new meaning to that biblical phrase, about charity covering a multitude of sins. He said, or rather he joked, that he had stolen from public funds before, but he had used up all of it. Many in the audience laughed.

What did he say, exactly? “I hate corruption. Hindi ako nagmamakalinis [sic]. Marami rin akong nanakaw pero naubos na. So wala na. T*ng*na, hindi ako uma… pero corruption is really out during my term.” Even as a joke, the parts in Filipino are damning. “I hate corruption. I am not pretending to be clean [Or, I am not being holier-than-thou]. I also stole a lot but it’s all used up. So it’s gone. Son of a bitch, I don’t… but corruption is really out during my term.”

Why would the chief executive, the person charged with executing the laws of the land, joke about violating the laws on corruption himself? Because he sees himself as a transgressive leader, and delights in outraging sensibilities. Because he understands this kind of tough talk is part of the appeal of Dutertismo, and he will be seen as authentic. And because he is telling the truth.

Like the American embarrassment he is often compared to, Mr. Duterte likes to talk. Unlike Donald Trump, however, he hardly traffics in projection. Instead, he often indulges in confession.

On Aug. 21, 2016, he admitted — unprompted, unprovoked — that he used to plant evidence when he was a city prosecutor in Davao City. “I’ve learned a lot during my prosecution days. We planted evidence.” (This is the live, beating heart of a disbarment case against him—and because you don’t need to be a lawyer to be President, such a case should fall outside the scope of the largely unchallenged tradition of presidential immunity. It’s worth testing.)

On Sep. 27, 2018, he confessed that his only sin was the extrajudicial killings. “Ano kasalanan ko? Nagnakaw ba ako diyan ni piso? Did I prosecute somebody na pinakulong ko? Ang kasalanan ko lang ’yung extrajudicial killings,” he said. Perhaps the more idiomatic translation of “kasalanan” is not sin, but guilt, as in “What am I guilty of?” But we can use the more literal translation, too: “What’s my sin? Did I steal even P1? Did I prosecute somebody whom I sent to jail? My only sin are those extrajudicial killings.”

We can multiply the examples of President Duterte’s many admissions against self-interest. To be sure, he and his many spokespersons like to use the he-was-joking defense. But consider just these three:

The President was not joking when he defended Solicitor General Jose Calida’s continued participation in government biddings for the chief government lawyer’s security agency. “Why should I fire him? Anything in government as long as there is bidding, there is no problem, that’s OK if he won the bidding.”

But the Constitution expressly prohibits Cabinet officials from being “financially interested in any contract with” the government or any of its agencies, and the antigraft law forbids public officers from receiving any benefit from “the Government or any other part, wherein the public officer in his official capacity has to intervene under the law.”

The President was not joking when, as a presidential candidate, he admitted being given at least three real estate properties and at least two SUVs by his good friend and constituent, Pastor Apollo Quiboloy. “Every time si Pastor magbili, dalawa ’yan. Ang isa sa akin diyan, sigurado (Every time Pastor buys something, he buys two at a time. One of them is for me, for sure),” he said.

The antigraft law prohibits “Directly or indirectly requesting or receiving any gift… for himself or for another, from any person for whom the public officer, in any manner or capacity, has secured or obtained, or will secure or obtain, any Government permit or license.”

And the President was not joking when he repeatedly praised his common-law wife Honeylet’s business acumen. By all accounts, she truly works hard at her businesses. But consider Mr. Duterte’s Honeylet narrative, which he has told often. This version is I think the latest, from Oct. 20. After describing her as his “true love,” the President narrated her rags-to-riches story yet again. “When she came home, she had saved up for capital, she franchised another one and then ventured into the meat business. The meat being sold here is hers. Besides, who would try to compete against the wife of the mayor or President? Ah, now she’s really rich.”

The key passage in the original Bisaya is even more emphatic. “Kinsa man pu’y makig-kompitensya’g asawa ka og mayor o Presidente?”

As we say in French: Mismo.

In telling this story again and again, the President admits to corruption. Simply put, corruption is the misuse of public office for private gain. By Mr. Duterte’s own account, hardworking Honeylet became the biggest supplier of meats in Davao City because, well, who wants to compete against the mayor’s wife?